Liv could never know for sure. But over the last few months she had developed a writer’s imagination and intuition. She had battled temptation when Hank’s lips were close to hers. Just a few seconds more could have changed everything. The wrong decision could have damaged her marriage further, and swamped her with guilt.

Had Essie faced a similar temptation with Grant?

Had the author made the wrong choices?

Liv turned off the shower and stepped back into the bathroom, naked and dripping wet. She shivered and grabbed a towel, rubbing the fabric across her skin. Although she had pieced things together, she still felt there was a black hole inside her body.

What about my story? she wanted to shout at Essie. How are things supposed to end for me? What happens to the young girl who dreams of becoming a writer?

As she dressed in the clothes she wore yesterday, an answer came to her. The only one she could find. The girl has to write her own story.

Liv’s stomach groaned and there was no food in the flat. She traipsed to a corner shop where she bought a sandwich, crisps and an apple. She sat down at the desk to eat.

As the rest of the house came to life, she listened to an audiobook on her phone, Heartburn by Nora Ephron. It was about the breakdown of a marriage, and it seemed apt. Doors banged around her, hair dryers roared, and the smell of toast filled the air. It reminded her of being at home with Jake and the boys and she felt homesick.

Liv had known the ending she’d written for Georgia Rory wasn’t the right one. The hero she’d created wasn’t her Mr. Right. To distract her thoughts from Essie, Liv took a taxi back to the penthouse. She asked the driver to wait outside.

In the hallway, Liv crunched over chipped crystal to pick up Essie’s original manuscript, her own rewritten version and the laptop. She took clothes from Essie’s wardrobe before returning to the student flat.

She tried to polish up her work, so she could submit it to Marlon, but knew she was doing Georgia and her fans a disservice. Just as Essie was stuck in the past, so was her heroine. Both of them deserved a better ending.

The next day, a rap at the door made Liv sit bolt upright in bed. She wore the knitted blanket around her shoulders like a superhero’s cape and her eyes were crusted with sleep. She cleared them with her fingertips before opening the door.

Jake stood there holding two stuffed carrier bags. “Hi,” he said casually, though she heard his one word was loaded with hope. He raised the bags. “I’ve brought a peace offering.”

“It doesn’t look like chocolates and flowers.”

“I like to think it’s better than that.”